This is not Cricket!
by Liva Wilborg
Summary: Desmond: Weird. Shaun: British. You do the math... No actual slash, it's only 1000 words because it's a writing challenge with another author on deviantart. Just Shaun having a good shout! :) ...Maybe one day I'll write an eye-watering sex scene, or perhaps a plot, to finish this fic... LOL Go read :)


Shaun mentally ground his teeth.

He had purposefully avoided looking in Desmond's direction for a long time and it was getting increasingly difficult. Not that the man moved. More that he didn't. Sitting on his haunches at the base of the statue, his back pressed against the pillar carrying marble Altaïr aloft... Completely noiseless.

Shaun had tried looking out of the corner of his eye more than once. It was like having a cat stare at you. An uncomfortable, amber-green stare specifically designed to deliver a tuna-donating breakdown. He really should be concentrating on work. This was ridiculous.

If only the girls would return. Some chit-chat in the room to– Tea!

That was the answer: Tea!

He could get up for a cuppa and Desmond wouldn't know he had been affected by his aggravating attempt at the kitty-stare attention swindle!

Shaun got to his feet, stretched and finally turned to look at Desmond as casually as he could. He expected to meet the other man's gaze. Maybe even catch him hurriedly looking away. Instead, he found Desmond completely unmoving, his eyes staring into space.

Whatever Shaun had been about to say died in his mouth and he froze, as still as Desmond. Perhaps he had died? The thought was accompanied by a sudden lurch of dread that quickly evaporated, leaving Shaun wanting to kick himself.

"Hello... Mr. Save-the-World?" he snapped his fingers in front of Desmond's face and saw a glimmer of life appear in his eyes. Exasperated, Shaun grabbed Desmond's shoulder.

Shaun's meagre fighting-skills remained unused when Desmond suddenly jumped up, kicked his legs away under him. Shaun sprawled on the ground. Too shocked to feel any pain he saw Desmond quickly crouch over him, strong, agile, raised fist poised for a blow, his look of snarling anger making him a stranger.

One part of Shaun's mind was calling him to action; though what kind of action wasn't clear. The other part worried that his glasses would break. They were his only pair.

Nothing happened. Then, as quickly as the aggression had sprung forth it vanished, leaving a childish panic in Desmond's features as he scrambled away, breath heaving.

Shaun stayed still, trying to assess whether anything was broken. His head was bumped, nothing else. He slowly got up. Turned to face Desmond who was staring at him in horror, keeping his distance.

Shaun pushed his glasses up: "Are you done faffing around?" he asked, wondering at his own lack of reaction.

"I..." Desmond shook his head. "There was this herald. And... A guard running. I was-" He faltered, his hands rubbing his hair roughly as though he could somehow scrub his thoughts clean.

"Stop that. You'll go Aeschylus and die." Shaun quickly closed the gap between them, reaching out to grab Desmond's wrists, finally getting his attention.

"...What?" Desmond finally asked, as though forcing his mind back to the surface of their shared reality was an almost insurmountable task.

"Aeschylus." Shaun said.

No reaction.

"Brutally bald. Probably from rubbing his hair off while writing brilliant tragedies. Killed by a tortoise."

"Never met him." Desmond said quietly.

"Alright. For you that's a good start, I suppose." Shaun sighed. "So, about that cup of tea..."

Desmond twisted his arms out of Shaun's grip slowly: "Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.

"You chucked me on the floor... Of course you hurt me, you stupid twit!" Shaun exploded, the sudden rush of vindictive anger sweeping away the polite dam build in his mind: "What the bloody hell do you think you are playing at! We are on the same side, aren't we? What is going on in your demented psyche, Miles!" he screamed, breathless with anger: "This. Is. Not. Cricket!"

Desmond nodded; his expression unreadable. Then he turned to leave but Shaun caught him by his sleeve, forcing him to turn back.

"It isn't!" Desmond said: "It's not okay. I know." He took a step back but the hand grabbing his sleeve didn't let go. "...Shaun. Come on, man. Just... let me go."

"A 'sorry I used you for wrestling practice' somewhere in that sentence would have really suited you. And you are not going anywhere until the girls come back!" Shaun snapped, letting go.

Desmond hid his face in his hands for a second. Then he drew a deep breath and met Shaun's harsh stare: "Will you accept my apology?"

"Only if you bloody well make it!"

A small, hopeful smile suddenly lurked in the corner of Desmond's mouth. It was strange, Shaun thought. Wry, sardonic, exhausted, despondent half-smiles were the only things he had ever seen Desmond wear and under the circumstances it was hardly surprising. But it suited him.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen. When I saw you, I knew everything was wrong but I couldn't stop the reaction." He held out his hands: "Forgive me?"

"Fine." Shaun nodded, still frowning though he felt the anger dispersing. "But only because I'm feeling magnanimous."

Awkward silence fell between them.

"So..." Desmond shrugged: "You said something about tea?"

"Give them forgiveness and they take your brew..." Shaun muttered. While the water boiled he studied Desmond, still standing where he'd been left.

"Plotting to wrestle me again?" Shaun asked as he poured.

"Just concentrating on the now."

"Builder-style?" Shaun asked, enjoying the puzzlement on Desmond's face. "Do you take your tea with milk and sugar?" he elaborated.

"Saturated."

"You don't like tea? ...savage." Shaun mumbled as he stirred the sugar in. He held the cup out: "Down your char, fight your madness. Reclaim the now, Desmond."

"I am. I am fighting. ...But my mutiny isn't going so well." Desmond took the cup.

"Fate loves a rebel, Desmond. Keep fighting." Shaun said and sipped his drink, steaming his glasses. When the fog cleared, Desmond was close.

"...About reclaiming the now." Desmond put his cup down. Shaun did the same, his heartbeat suddenly punching his chest.

"What about it?" Shaun asked.

"Wanna help?"


End file.
